


Friends with Monsters

by emilyisagoblin



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Daddy Issues, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Goblin Family, Mental Health Issues, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 05:17:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14073705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyisagoblin/pseuds/emilyisagoblin
Summary: A childhood rite of passage leads to some unexpected father-son bonding—and an unexpected revelation about the Osborn family legacy.





	Friends with Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place prior to the "One More Day" arc, shortly before the events of _The Spectacular Spider-Man_ #179. Feedback is appreciated. Thanks for reading!

It’s three o’clock in the morning. A high-pitched squeal erupts from Normie’s bedroom, waking Harry with a start. He sits straight up in bed, like Frankenstein’s monster reanimated by a bolt of lightning, his heart thundering in his chest. His breath comes in ragged gasps. His body shakes. Still clouded by sleep, his mind moves at a fraction of its normal pace, not thinking in complete sentences so much as half-formed flashes and impulses: _Normie. Son. Danger. Protect._ He turns to Liz, who sleeps next to him, looking for confirmation that the noise was real and not a product of his imagination. Lately, it has been harder and harder for him to tell which is which. “Go check on him, would you?” she mutters, her face buried in a pillow, more asleep than awake.

Harry nods. “Yeah, no problem,” he says, and for a moment, he is relieved. He didn’t imagine the scream. The pills must be working. Then, all at once, guilt overwhelms him as his thoughts turn to Normie once more. This is no time to hesitate. His son’s life might very well be in danger.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just a nightmare,” Liz says, seeming to read his thoughts. More than anything, Harry wants to agree with her. He is well aware he worries too much. He’s always looking over his shoulder, seeing shadows and enemies where there are none. It isn’t healthy. His father was destroyed by his own paranoia, and he’ll be damned if he lets it destroy him, too.

Still, he can’t shake the feeling something is wrong.

He opens the door to Normie’s bedroom slowly. At first glance, nothing appears to be out of place, and this puts him at ease. In the far corner of the room, his son’s cherubic face peers out from behind a fortress of blankets and stuffed animals piled onto his bed. “Hey bud, is everything all right?” Harry struggles to mask the quiver in his voice.

Normie shakes his head. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely more than a terrified croak. “Something’s under my bed.”

“You, uh, think we might have a roach problem?” Harry asks, half-joking.

“More like a monster problem,” Normie replies.

In spite of himself, Harry breathes a sigh of relief. Liz was right, then. It was only a nightmare. His son is safe. His first instinct is to reassure Normie that of course, there’s no such thing as monsters, but he stops himself. He knows firsthand what it’s like to be tormented by a race of creatures that exist only inside his mind. Hearing some tired cliché from his father won’t make Normie feel any better. Understanding something isn’t real doesn’t make it any less terrifying. Instead, he asks, “Are you sure?”

Normie nods. The terror in his eyes speaks volumes. “I can hear it under the bed, scratching and breathing all heavy. I think it wants to eat me.”

Harry’s expression instantly softens. It breaks his heart to see his son so afraid, even if he’s only afraid of an imaginary monster. He joins Normie on the bed, scooping him up in an all-encompassing hug. “Come on, who says it wants to eat you? That is a vicious stereotype, and all of monster kind resents you for perpetuating it,” he says, ruffling his son’s hair. The joke is lame, like most of his jokes, but Normie smiles anyway. To Harry, it’s the most beautiful sight in the world.

However, Normie still isn’t fully convinced. “I didn’t know there were such things as _nice_ monsters.”

“Of course there are,” Harry says. “I mean, have you seen _Monsters, Inc.?_ Nice monsters are totally a thing.”

“Yeah, but that’s just a movie. How do you know _this_ monster doesn’t want to eat me?” Normie asks. 

Admittedly, Harry isn’t quite sure what to say. That it is his secret shame, the source of the lingering sense of guilt constantly weighing him down: he has no idea how to be a father. What is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to ensure the tiny human sitting in front of him will mature into a responsible, moral adult? Norman certainly didn’t provide him with much of an example to follow. He feels like a joke. Normie deserves someone better, someone less broken inside. Instead, he has Harry, who has practically perfected the art of failure, who requires pills upon pills to shut up the voices in his head, who is little but a bundle of psychosis and ineptitude and insecurity. _Dammit, what do I say?_ he asks himself. After a few moments of silence, he takes a deep breath and says the first thing comes to his mind.

“Because I was the one who asked it to watch over you.”

Normie’s eyes widen to the size of marbles. “And it listened to you? A real monster actually listened to you?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Harry says with a laugh. “It’s a well-kept Osborn family secret, but we actually have a very close relationship with the local monster community. They look out for us, and we look out for them. They’re our friends.” The words are out of his mouth before he has time to comprehend what he’s saying, and it’s possible they shock him even more than they shock Normie. Harry has never considered himself the creative type, much less the type to fabricate a children’s story on the fly, but somehow, he finds himself doing exactly that. He has no idea how it happens. It’s almost instinctual, as though he is not fully in control of his own body while it occurs. “Every now and then, I’ll send one of them to check up on you—you know, make sure you don’t do anything too knuckleheaded while I’m at work. My dad did the same thing for me when I was your age. Monsters are too sneaky to let humans see them, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. I mean, you didn’t really think the freaking Tooth Fairy left that dollar under your pillow after you lost that tooth, did you?”

“Th-that was a _monster?” _Normie asks in an almost reverent whisper.__

____

____

Harry nods. “Human baby teeth are a monster delicacy. Your monster probably liked the taste of your tooth so well that it left the money to say thanks,” he says. “Monsters get a bad rap, but most of them are actually super chill. It’s really kind of unfair.”

His son gives him a sidelong glance. “Really?”

“Come on, would I lie to you about something like this?” Harry retorts.

Normie stares up at him. In the moonlight, his eyes almost seem to glow. They are the exact color of a robin’s egg—light blue whorled with green, like his mother’s eyes. Like Norman’s eyes. Suddenly, Harry is struck by how much his son resembles his father. He’s only a little kid, but Harry can already see Norman’s signature, sharp features beginning to peek through Normie’s rounded face. He wonders if this is what his father looked like as a child. Admittedly, it’s hard for him to picture Norman ever looking so young and innocent. As far back as he can remember, his father always had a haunted, hungry look about him, like an enormous bird of prey perpetually poised to strike.

With a shudder, Harry realizes the truth of his own fairy tale: a monster _has_ always watched over the Osborn family. It speaks to him in the night, the same way it spoke to Norman, tempting him with the promise of power if only he will surrender to madness. The pills help to drown it out, but it is still there, like the little shoulder devils in the old cartoons, forever whispering in his ear. And it only gets louder each time he puts on that damned mask. Every outing as the Green Goblin revives those long-buried memories, those old feelings of hatred and despair, confusing and overwhelming him. Although he has resisted the urge to expose himself to his father's mind-altering serum thus far, even without it, the Goblin never fails to bring out his inner maniac.

In some ways, Harry has made an uneasy peace with the Goblin. He tells himself it is a necessary evil, something he must tolerate in order to protect his wife and son, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can wear the mask without losing his mind entirely. No matter how often he tells himself that he will not give into insanity, that he will not let the monster win, each time he puts on that familiar, leering mask, he is filled with an overpowering sense of dread—all while that little shoulder devil whispers in his ear, telling him madness is an inevitability for those of Osborn blood. He wonders if Normie will ever hear the monster’s voice. Will he feel the pull of the darkness as his father and grandfather did? Will he resist it, or will he eventually succumb? Does he even have a choice?

“So, you’re friends with monsters, huh?” Normie’s voice startles him back to reality once more.

Harry blinks sleepily, as though waking from a dream. “Uh, yeah,” he says. It isn’t technically a lie. The Goblin is his ally, a tool he can use to his advantage when he needs it, and yet, sometimes it feels more like the Goblin controls him as opposed to the other way around. Up to this point, he has managed to keep the monster under his thumb, but he isn’t sure how much longer that will last. Perhaps, like his father, Harry will ultimately be overtaken by his monster and led to his doom.

He sighs and rests a hand on Normie’s shoulder. Someday, his son will see him as the Goblin. He is sure of it. Someday, Normie will learn the true nature of the monster that lurks inside every Osborn. When that day comes, he doesn’t want Normie to be afraid of that monster, like he is, nor does he want him to completely submit to its will, the way Norman did. More than anything, he wants his son to be better than both of them, capable of using that monster without being destroyed by it. He refuses to believe that little devil on his shoulder, assuring him every Osborn is fated to destroy himself. Perhaps madness is in their blood, but that doesn’t mean they must be ruled by it. Perhaps Normie will be different. Perhaps Normie will be the first of them to truly make his monster his friend.

Harry turns to his son. “Remember, you’re an Osborn, too. That also makes the monster under your bed _your_ friend, so there’s no reason to be scared. I know it might seem kind of creepy, but it just wants to keep you safe. It’s just looking out for you because…because it loves you like your mom and I do.”

“The monster _loves_ me?” Normie eyes him strangely.

Harry laughs and places a kiss on his forehead. “Yep, and so do I.”

His son scoffs. “You’re so weird.”

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replies, “but guess what? You’re pretty weird yourself. Weirdness just runs in this family.”

In response, Normie sticks out his tongue playfully, a gesture which Harry returns in kind. Before long, both of them have collapsed into a fit of laughter, and the monster under the bed is but a distant memory. Suddenly, Normie hugs him around the waist, burying his face in his shirt. “I love you, Daddy,” he whispers, and Harry’s heart melts at the sound of his voice. Never have such simple words possessed such power. In spite of all the voices in his head, telling him he is a monster, nothing makes him feel more profoundly human than those four words.

“I love you, too, pal,” he replies, standing and stretching. “Now, what do you say we get back to bed, huh? Daddy’s got a long day ahead of him tomorrow, and he could use some sleep.”

Normie nods, nestling beneath his blankets. “Good night, Daddy!” he says. Then, peering under the bed, he adds, “Good night, nice monster! Thank you for the dollar and also keeping me safe!”

Harry chuckles. He wishes he could freeze this moment forever—a single moment of perfect happiness. These moments are few and far between in his life, and he wants to savor them for as long as he can. Maybe the next time the darkness surrounds him, threatening to swallow him whole, he can look back on this moment and remember what it’s like to be loved, to be human. Maybe it will help him find his way back to the light. “Sleep tight, beautiful boy,” he says, shutting the door.


End file.
